Larken (3 page)

Larken pulled the necklace from her pocket, fastened its clasp around her neck, and gave it a pat.

“Mama was right. Wearing her locket does make me feel better.”

The further she drove from the Howleys’ home, the better her mood. The road beckoned and adventure lay ahead—if she could consider marriage to a complete stranger an adventure. Of course, she oughtn’t forget about the challenge presented by raising another woman’s child. On that subject, however, she had no complaints. Given her past, she was looking forward to nurturing the poor lad. Was the child very young, or older—like she’d been when she was orphaned? Hopefully he wouldn’t take after the neighbors’ boy, who threw rocks at dogs and cats whenever he had the opportunity. As to what her future husband would be like, she could only speculate. Since he had no interest in a real wife, Larken assumed he must be quite mature—perhaps an elderly widower. Or maybe he was in ill health and concerned mainly with his gout and arthritis. A grimace followed. Hopefully she would not be asked to assume the duties of a nurse, too! So many questions swirled through her mind, but the answers would have to wait until she reached her final destination.

Her feelings of elation at having escaped the Howleys turned to dread when the cab reached the train station.
I’d rather walk to Newcastle without shoes than take the train.
At the ticket window, she discovered Mr. Howley had given her enough money for a private compartment. Mrs. Howley couldn’t have known or she would have most certainly forbidden it. Larken purchased her ticket and headed for the platform. Mounting the steps to the train when it arrived was like climbing onto the gallows, and as she moved through the train corridor, she forced herself to stay calm. Once inside her compartment, however, she produced the bottle of laudanum and with shaking hands put a generous number of drops onto her tongue.

When the grip of panic eased, she drifted off into lurid drug-induced dreams about old Mr. King and his blood-soaked, haunted estate. He’d done away with six of his former wives, and she was to be the seventh. She fled through the house while he chased her with a gleaming wide ax—the same one which he used to cut his former wives into little bits…

The conductor shook her awake. “Excuse me, miss, but we’re fifteen minutes from the Gateshead railway station.”

Larken sat up, groggy. “Thank you.”

A restless, anxious night and the laudanum had contributed to her sleeping the day away. Under the circumstances, that was a good thing. She yawned and tried to shake off the images of her grotesque dreams. Her anxiety was pure silliness, admittedly. Certainly, she was no heroine from a penny dreadful—although she enjoyed reading those from time to time. Whatever future lay ahead could not be worse than what she’d left behind, although it almost felt like she was about to enter a convent. A marriage in name only was still a marriage, which meant she would never experience the things other girls her age whispered about behind their hands. Having never been in love before, she wasn’t exactly sure what she would be missing, but the whole arrangement seemed unnatural somehow. On the other hand, she wouldn’t starve or be forced to live on the streets—a fate Mrs. Howley had threatened her with almost daily since Larken turned eighteen.

She stepped from the train onto the Gateshead platform and glanced around for whoever was supposed to meet her. The passengers dispersed, but she was still waiting alongside her trunk. Just when she began to worry, a uniform-clad young man made a tentative approach.

“You wouldn’t be Miss Burke, would you?” He seemed almost incredulous for some reason.

“Yes.”

“My name is James. I’m to take you to Graceling Hall.”

The drive from the station was lengthy, and by the time the carriage arrived at its destination, dark had fallen. Although Larken couldn’t really make out the house or its grounds in the dusky light, her curiosity had been muted by weariness and hunger. The housekeeper, Mrs. Mason, met her at the carved double doors, whisked her up a broad, carpeted flight of stairs, and ushered her into a large bedchamber.

“I’m putting you in here for tonight, but you have the whole wing of the house to yourself. If there’s some other room you’d prefer, just let me know and we’ll move your things.”

“The whole wing?” Larken echoed. “Alone?”

“Well, at least until the lad arrives. Then the two of you will share it.”

“How old is the boy?”

“I believe Myles is about five years old. Next door is your sitting room, where you’ll take all your meals. In fact, a servant will serve dinner to you shortly. Did you bring a gown in which to get married?”

“Why…no.”

“That’s all right. Whatever you have will be fine. I’ll send a maid with water for your bath when she brings you breakfast tomorrow morning. The wedding is at nine, and you’ll be taken to the chapel a few minutes beforehand.”

“Wait! I’m to be married
tomorrow?”

“Aye. Mr. King is leaving to pick up his ward directly after the ceremony. I don’t know where he’s traveling, but I understand it’s a long way off.” She tilted her head as she regarded Larken. “Are you doing this out of your own free will, lass?”

“Y-Yes. I suppose I am. Why?”

“It’s just that you’re such a pretty thing.” She shrugged and made a tsking sound as she headed for the door. “Oh, well, I’ll let you settle in.”

“I’m not to meet Mr. King tonight?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Mrs. Mason bustled from the room, leaving Larken nonplussed and slightly dizzy. Her feeling of disorientation was not helped by the fact she’d eaten nothing since breakfast, and very little then. Before she could even put down her reticule, James lugged her trunk into the room and set it at the foot of the bed.

“Would you like me to put your trunk someplace else?” he asked.

“No. I’m sure it’s fine right there.”

He grinned. “I thought you’d be different. We all did.”

“In what way?”

“You know. Plain. It’s a shame, honestly.”

“What do you mean?” She was taken aback. “Is Mr. King really that awful?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He gave her an appraising look and a slow smile which showed his dimples to their best advantage. Her experience with such things was limited, but she could tell James was flirting with her outrageously.

“If you ever get lonely, you can find me in the stables,” he said.

“Is that so? Which end of the horse?”

A burst of laughter. “You’ve got me there.” James bowed and lifted his cap. “Have a lovely evening.”

He left, and moments later a young maid with auburn hair and freckles paused in the doorway of her bedroom with a tray in her hands.

“Your dinner is ready, miss.”

Larken’s midsection gurgled as she followed her into the adjoining sitting room. While the maid set the table, Larken stood back and folded her arms across her stomach to muffle the sound. The girl finished her task, picked up the empty tray, and turned to leave.

“I’m Nell, if you need anything else.” She gestured toward the bell pull. “Just ring when you want me to clear your dishes.”

Too famished to think about anything else, Larken sat down and began to eat. The variety and quality of the food was much better than she was used to at the Howleys, and there was even a small lemon tart for dessert. After fifteen minutes, she felt more restored and was able to take in her surroundings. The sitting room, although sparsely decorated, was a good size. The table could seat six. Two comfortable-looking upholstered chairs were situated near the fireplace, and several windows on one side promised the room would be filled with light come morning. No artwork graced the walls, nor were ornaments of any kind in evidence, and Larken wondered why. Perhaps she could cull a few furnishings from some of the other rooms? Certainly if she was to have dominion over one whole wing of the house, nobody would mind if she moved a few things around.

The window seat beckoned invitingly, so she sat down on the velvet cushion and pushed the curtain to one side. It was too dark to see much, but it appeared the view on that side of the house was of the garden. When clouds moved away from the moon, the sudden illumination revealed a tall gentleman strolling along the broad white gravel pathway. Mr. King? As if Larken had shouted, his head turned toward her. Startled, she dropped the curtain and backed away from the window. How embarrassing if he thought she’d been spying on him! Nevertheless, she wished she could have seen his face. Larken shrugged. Her first real look at the man would be at the altar tomorrow, and that would have to be good enough.

Larken awoke several times during the night, gasping in horror and reaching out in the dark as the world tipped sideways. When morning dawned, it was a relief to get out of bed. Nevertheless, from the moment Nell appeared, Larken felt like she was being rushed. A quick breakfast was followed immediately by a short bath. Thereafter, she donned the gown she usually wore to church. Fortunately, Nell had hung up Larken’s clothes while she was eating dinner the night before, so the garment was relatively fresh.

After she was dressed, Nell bade her sit in front of the mirror while she brushed her hair.

“I’m to be your lady’s maid from now on, if that’s all right with you.”

“It’s wonderful, actually.” A faint smile. “I haven’t had a maid since I was a little girl.”

“Forgive me, but I couldn’t help but notice those newspaper clippings when I was putting away your things last night. You’re Larken Burke, the Miracle Orphan.”

A nod.

“I remember hearing about the train accident when I was younger. I can’t imagine how horrible it must have been.” She shuddered. “Is that how you got those scars on your back?”

Larken flinched and her face burned with embarrassment. It was inevitable the maid would have noticed the jagged marks across her lower back where flying shards of glass had sliced through her dress during the accident.

“Yes. I-I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?”

“The scars are so…repulsive.”

A gasp. “They’re no such thing! My heavens, I have a horrible mark on my ankle from brushing up against a wire fence when I was twelve.” She giggled. “No lad has complained yet.”

Tears stung Larken’s eyelids. “Please don’t mention the scars to anyone. I really don’t want people to know.”

Nell’s merriment faded. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With deft fingers, she twisted Larken’s thick tresses and pinned them in a coil at the back of her head. She tucked a few white rosebuds amongst the strands to good effect.

“Pretty,” Larken said. “Thank you.”

“You’re so fortunate to have such lovely hair, and such a beautiful color too,” Nell said. “It’s just like sunshine.”

Larken knew the woman was trying to cheer her up. “You’re very kind.” A pause. “My father used to call me Sunshine. I wish he were here.”

Mrs. Mason tapped on the door. “Excuse me, Miss Burke? The carriage is ready when you are.”

The housekeeper led Larken outside to the courtyard, where she was able to get a good look at Graceling Hall for the first time. The Jacobean structure was impressively magnificent, fashioned of a warm, weathered beige stone. Although it was largely rectangular in shape, several turrets gave the building a castle-like feeling. The grounds themselves were astonishingly beautiful, with rolling green lawns dotted here and there with grazing sheep.

The chapel was located on the grounds, and the carriage ride took less than ten minutes. Larken rode alone, but someone had left a spray of lavender on the seat for her to use as a bridal bouquet. As the chapel grew closer, she wondered why she wasn’t nervous about her impending nuptials. None of it felt real, or perhaps she was too numb to feel much of anything at all.

As she walked through the chapel door, she paused to let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The church was largely empty, but strangers filled the pews up front. Larken recognized James and Nell, and she supposed the remaining guests were probably all staff from Graceling Hall. A man was waiting for her where the groom usually stood, but he didn’t turn around to watch as she approached.

After Larken joined him at the altar, she stole a glance at the man’s profile. His dark brown hair was brushed back away from his face, the lower half of which was covered with a thick growth of beard. Certainly, he wasn’t the elderly gentleman she’d anticipated, but she couldn’t tell what he really looked like from that angle.